


Hooper & Holmes

by daisherz365



Series: Commissions [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Multi, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2019-05-16 23:29:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14820966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisherz365/pseuds/daisherz365
Summary: It wasn't a marriage of convenience. He wasn't looking for a wife. Truth be told he got something much more than that. [Sherlolly Victorian Arranged Marriage AU]





	1. prologue + pt. 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [traceybear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/traceybear/gifts).



> HI!
> 
> So this is being written as a commission for **shadowyqueenbeard** on Tumblr. It's been long overdue but I'm happy to finally get the ball rolling so to speak.
> 
> A thousand thank you's to my lovely beta [Sally](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fettuccine_alfreylo) for being encouraging and polishing up my mistakes. It wouldn't look this good otherwise ;D
> 
> We're in for a ride so I hope everyone enjoys it. <3
> 
> PS. I'm hoping to keep it at 10 chapters but as I've told Sally if the plot decides it needs more time then at the most 15.  
> PS.S I'm going to go ahead and apologize if it takes me longer to update this, the muse can be finicky but hey WE STARTED at least!

**Prologue + pt. 1**

_Mister Sherlock Holmes of Two Hundred and Twenty-One B Baker Street had been pacing for the past six hours out of annoyance that his_ **_dear_ ** _wife of the past seven months had yet to arrive back home. She had left in a state of complete aggravation that she claimed was due to his nature and had little to do with her own kept secrets that she didn’t think he needed to know about. She had always been an independent woman ever since she was born. Of course he had known this previously before accepting his fate as a married man. As if he could have possibly cared that his wife was a working woman at night and offering him companionship within his study and their home during the day._

_His best mate of over six years, Doctor John Watson, had been trying to settle his woes of a missing wife whom he had wanted nothing to do with in the first place, by offering him whiskey and an ear to listen to his mad ravings. However, the tall and mussed-haired detective cared little for it. His eyes were trained on his two spots of interest; the door and the window, the latter of which  offered a great glimpse into the downpour below and served as an impeccable vantage point to see the woman he had agreed to marry nearly half a year ago._

_He was in his thirty-something turn about the space when the sound of the doors opening below had him rushing down the stairs, fully intending to shout at the woman for causing him a headache at her tardiness. They were supposed to have eaten dinner several hours ago. Instead it had gone cold and although their landlady had offered to heat it up,  he had retorted that his wife could eat it cold for all he cared._

_Sherlock halted in his movements at the state he found Margaret Hooper to be in. She was swaying from side to side and had yet to actually look at him. Her complexion was paler than normal and her clothes were in disarray._

_“Watson!” He called as he tried to gather his wits about him and not trip over his footing, longing to reach her before she fell. However, he was stilted  by the sudden fear of reaching her and not being able to do a single thing to aid her._

_“She’s your betrothed,” Watson grumbled as he managed to  descend the stairs just in time to make sure that Mrs. Holmes didn’t crack her head open._

_“What’s wrong with her?” Sherlock muttered instead, ignoring his friend’s exasperated tone. He took to placing his hands in his pockets and taking a few steps towards the pair to assess her condition from a shorter distance. Her clothes were in shreds as if someone had attacked her and the state of her body mirrored this same deduction._

_It made him feel ill and furious at the same time. Who would attack a woman as ordinary as Molly? It was his job as her husband to find whoever it was and make them suffer immensely._

-x-

_Eight months earlier... _

 

_Please do us the honor of joining Mr. & Mrs. Siger Holmes and Mr.  & Mrs. Maxwell Hooper to celebrate the blissful union between their children, Mr. William Sherlock Scott Holmes and Miss Margaret Anne Hooper _

 

Molly had gone over the details  of their small winter wedding for a solid two weeks before it had given her a headache and she had eventually decided to allow her mum and Sherlock’s to take over most details,  so long as they didn’t do anything excessive. It had been entirely possible but in the end, she thought it turned into a rather gorgeous affair with very few people, much to her delight and later her husband’s as well, considering she learned quickly after he offered her his hand that he became rather standoffish and curt towards anyone he didn’t feel the need to speak to.

The whole act of marrying him had been a whirlwind of confusion and delight for some people, her mother being quite happy while Molly had been quite taken off guard by the suddenness of it at all.

She, unlike others who were among the peerage, was not seeking to wed anyone. She hadn’t gotten any offers before. Sherlock’s offer had been rather direct yet willing to take on a wife. It had been strange. She had only seen him a handful of times as her father, being a medical doctor, was trusted with keeping families in perfect health up until he grew ill.

It hadn’t taken terribly long for her to uncover the truth; her dying father had made a request. It was not uncommon for fathers to do such a thing for their children. Arranged marriages were quite popular among the inner circles of society. However, knowing what she knew about him before they said “I Do’s”, he was a separate entity entirely. He stayed to himself with the exception of being with his family when he had to and the friend who stood next to him during the service as his best man: Doctor John Watson.

Doctor Watson was a near opposite of Mr. Holmes but that seemed to work for their companionship just fine.

Molly looked over at her husband from her place on the opposite side of the carriage and found him lost in thought, as he often was. They were coming back to London from their honeymoon. Another thing of note was that the new bride hadn’t been expecting to partake in that particular tradition. She had to quickly learn to expect the unexpected with her husband. He had done several things in private that she wouldn’t have even dreamed of asking of him. It was not as romantic as one could imagine. He was doing this out of duty, not because he loved her.

Of course, he hadn’t told her that but she wasn’t an imbecile. He treated her as he would nearly anyone - stoic, and straightforward with no hidden agenda, so there was no disillusion coming from her side. He was efficient to a fault.

For her part she had tried to appear the same even when he amused her so much. Such as now. He had untied his silk cravat and left it around his neck. She had straightened it many times over the fortnight that they had spent in the Holmes’ seaside residence; whenever they ventured out to dine he would start to attempt to mess with it before sulking. Now, she assumed he just hated those things. He did have a set of more dressed down suits with no sort of tie in sight, but he had opted out of wearing any of them on the way back home.

“What?” He sighed as he turned his gaze onto her, catching the mirth in her eyes. She looked rather sweet when she was happy about something. He tried not to react to it although it wasn’t wholly unpleasant.

“Nothing.” She tried to frown as she slipped her gaze away from him to the window.

“Molly,” He stated, agitated that she was not telling him something. He used this tone often even though it did him little good. She could be a minx when she wanted to be, or rather when she needed a smile. For some insane reason, little things about his appearance set her off.

“Do you want me to fix it?” She didn’t tell him what she was talking about. One look down at his person and he was reminded of the fabric that he always considered burning.

He huffed. “When we get closer,” He finally retorted after what felt like fifteen slow minutes.

“Nearly to Baker Street. You were distracted.” She clicked her tongue.

“Thinking isn’t a distraction.” He paused as he looked her over, soon eyeing her hands. She hadn’t realized that she was fidgeting. She was nervous much to his confusion. She’d spent a day in his - now their - home. That was enough time to get comfortable. He focused back on her face; she was waiting for him to give her a definite answer.

She was patient. He was used to moving at his own pace and getting berated about it. She didn’t seem to mind. He did want to remove the fidgeting.

“Fine.” He slipped the silk fabric off his neck and passed it to her with no physical touching in the exchange. He leant forward as to give her ample reach and she went about it quickly as the carriage wheels  jostled against the cobblestone.

He watched the pure concentration on her face. She had placed the pin behind her ear until she was done. She made sure  the cravat was to her liking before carefully placing the pin in the center, being sure that it didn’t knick him on accident.

As she settled back he found himself asking, “When did you learn to do that? I hate the damn things.”

Molly didn’t return his lingering gaze, instead looked straight ahead. Her eyes were glossed over, he noticed the lump forming in her throat giving away the answer before it spilled from her lips.

“Sometimes mum was busy when Dad needed help. I was always there. He hates wearing them too. I’m a fast learner.”

She drew in a deep breath before letting go. The carriage had stopped but neither of them moved.

Once the footman had opened the door, however, Sherlock was the first to get out. He reached to assist her out of instinct.

She thanked him quietly as they shuffled the few steps towards the door. Molly was about to begin climbing when she felt Sherlock’s coat against her side. It was his arm. She tilted her head up towards him.

“One more tradition,” He whispered quietly. It was then that she realized they had an audience. A few reporters, a camera man among a few pedestrians who were gathered to watch the arrival of the newlyweds.

“Sure?” She asked in realization of which one he was referring to.

He didn’t hesitate, perhaps out of discomfort of being out in the open any longer than need be. “ _Yes_.”

She barely nodded before he had bent down to gather her in his arms. Having read about it before, Molly knew her part to play and carefully wrapped her arms around his neck. He didn’t flinch. She gave him a gaze of reassurance and he carried her up the stairs and over the threshold amidst all the noise behind them.

As the door shut behind them, he let out a deep breath as he let her down and stepped a few meters away from her.

It hadn’t been as easy for him to do that as it had appeared.

“Sorry,” She mumbled before rushing up the stairs to give him some peace. She felt like she couldn’t breathe completely either.

 

Sherlock let out a sigh watching his new bride retreat like that. They had spent ample time together doing things that normal couples do, and yet none of this had gotten any easier. Nor did he think it would.

Women were not his area of expertise. He could put on a facade of indifference like the majority of the men his brother met with on a daily basis, although he found it a slight more troubling that he was now betrothed to one of them.

He knew of the expectations that came along with it. His parents would want an heir, but his wife's family were more simple. They just wanted to see Molly happy. He’d be more willing to consult with them if he ever felt the urge to rather than go directly to his own.

This wasn't to say the youngest Holmes child loathed his family. He loved them as much as any one person could. However, talking to them more than necessary took its toll on him.

He noticed his landlady’s gaze directed upon him. She seemed disappointed for some reason. “She's fine. We had a long trip.”

“You're due to remember she's still a young girl put in the most stifling situation, Mister Holmes.” Mrs. Hudson was honest even when he tried to dismiss her on certain topics.

This complication of having a wife was something he would need any amount of help with, as it was bound to give him many headaches. He would need all the counsel he could get.

“I didn't ask for this, either,” Was his brisk retort to Mrs. Hudson before following in Molly’s footsteps up the stairs.

Her demeanor had changed in the short amount of time they spent apart. The boxes of merriment also had something to do with it. Gifts from plenty of people he didn't know.

Molly seemed transfixed by them.

“A bit excessive but I'm sure you'll find something you like. I believe half may be from my parents. The others, a mystery.”

When she turned to look at him he could tell that she was going to ask something of him that he didn't want.

“Would you open one?” Molly asked. He sighed. She wasn't asking for a lot but he had hoped she'd leave him out of all of this for some time.

Sensing his distaste, Molly tried to amend the statement. “Just pick one. After that I'll let you be. I know I'm a nuisance.”

That wasn't what he would call her. She had been rather accommodating on their trip, and now that they were here she was trying to make the best of it.

He looked over all the gifts in their various sizes and colors and was struck by a small one that was covered in dark paper. Something about it drew him to it and made him want to make sure that he was the only one who opened it.

He took it in his hands to inspect it more.

Molly watched him silently. She hadn't seen him work before but it was abundantly clear that there was something that was bothering him.

She waited as he examined it carefully, his expression pensive before he ultimately ripped the paper off to discover another box within it. When he opened it he found an item that puzzled him more than anything else.

First there was a piece of parchment, a card that bore nothing but a few words. No name attached to it.

It was a riddle.

He grew more confused the longer he looked at it.

“What does it say?” Molly asked after a while.

“Nothing of importance.” He tried to pocket it but he didn’t factor in the fact that she was really quite quick on her feet and had moved closer to him while he was trying to figure out the puzzle.

“Do things of no importance always put that look on your face?” She chortled. He found her humor sometimes amusing but at the moment he didn’t see it in that way. For all that he could tell there was someone trying to play a dangerous game with him. He would rather not involve her nor worry her with it.

Instead he handed her the box. The contents were harmless really. The riddle was his own to suffer through. “This one is for _you_.”

Molly didn’t look like she believed him in the slightest but she took the dark box from him and pulled out the piece of cloth that bore her initials on it in a deep red, a heavy contrast to the almost gray color of the rest of handkerchief. M.A.H. H.

“Who sent it?” She asked, as she placed the cloth back within the box. It was of a high quality.

“No name on the card,” Sherlock said. He paused, sparing a glance at Molly who bore a very unreadable expression on her face. It bothered him when she did that. “Do you not like it?”

Molly smiled softly. “It’s lovely. We have to thank people for their generosity once we’re more settled.”

Sherlock hummed but said nothing more. He gestured for her to have a go at the rest of them. They would have to venture back out tomorrow to visit their respective families but for today, they could rest and recuperate from traveling.

He moved over to his desk and took a seat. He could feel her eyes on him but she didn’t say anything as she herself settled in to open more of the gifts. She wouldn’t get through all of them today but making a dent in them put her mind at ease. It also distracted her from worrying about how her father was faring since she had been away on her honeymoon.

She had gotten a letter a few days before their return trip home. It had been penned by her mother with her father’s voice clear and full of optimism.

_Molly,_

_I eagerly await your return with Sherlock. You have questions that I can answer at that time. I hope he was agreeable for the majority of your time away._

_Love,_

_Dad_

He had never said much about her husband during the time they spent before the wedding. He had appeared rather elated that she was going to be taken care of. Molly tried not to read too much into that, lest her heartache grow as his condition worsened.

Moving on from the surplus of gifts sent from family, acquaintances, and clients perhaps, Molly circled the room away from Sherlock. He was focused on the note he wasn’t letting her see. She was curious about it but decided against pestering him for tonight. They would be dealing with several annoyances tomorrow - his thoughts, not hers. She looked forward to being in the company of her in-laws and her own parents. She hoped it would give her a better perspective of what life would be like now that they were living together.

She had been in 221b before, briefly. She merely sat on the sofa while Sherlock discussed something with the fellow from Scotland Yard who had salt and pepper hair. The man was a patient fellow - a direct contrast to Sherlock. Most people were different from him as far as she gathered. She had only met him a handful of times before he asked for her hand, and none of these times had ever been on a personal level. As it were, her father had been the Holmes family doctor since he was a young man; that continued into his adulthood despite the fact Sherlock had a friend who was a medically trained doctor.

She remembers her father asking him about it on one of his last visits to Baker Street without essential aide. Sherlock’s response had been warmer than expected. “I’ve known you all my life, Doctor Hooper. Why would that change just because I have a companion who happens to be a doctor?”

She doesn’t quite remember her father’s response but she does recall trying to hide a smile at the scene.  If she could bet on anything, experiencing such good natured appreciation was rarer than the sun in these grey days in London.

Molly gravitated towards the bookshelf that was cluttered with several tomes of literature on subjects that most people she knew probably hadn’t picked up ever in their lives. All for the sake of research. He was a detective, that made sense. She was surprised to find so much on the anatomy of the human body. It was something she had a keen interest in.

She opted out of choosing one of the texts on it, instead grabbing one of the lighter ones focusing on death itself. It could turn out to be entirely physiological. She wouldn’t find that entirely boring in case it did turn out that way.

She went to turn to look at Sherlock only to find him muttering to himself.

“He does that, dear. Would you like to be shown into the room? You must want to lie down before supper.” The landlady had slipped in at some point. She looked herself, very exhausted but happy to be of service to the latest edition to the Holmes family; and this home.

“Yes.” She paused before taking the few steps to join her at the door. “Thank you.”

“Mrs. Hudson or Martha will do, Molly.” She began ushering her to a door that took a detour just past Sherlock at his desk. He didn’t stir to say anything about what was transpiring. Molly found herself grateful to him for being so involved with his task. It meant that she would be able to feel strange about entering Sherlock’s bedroom alone with the intent to get into his bed.

This was supposed to be normal for a husband and wife - sharing space. Their situation had never been what young girls dreamed about. She hadn’t been swept up; it all felt very clinical. No substance behind it. That included this part. Even on their honeymoon he never joined her until the wee hours of the morning when she was already in her dreams.

The truth was that it only bothered her a little. He didn’t know her, and she didn’t know him. Looking into his room - their room now - she didn’t know if she felt any closer to him. She did admire the green painting of the walls. It sounded poetic but it made her feel like being wrapped up by a sweater. Comforting, at ease. The opposite of what she was feeling prior to stepping into the room.

Mrs. Hudson left her there with a click of the lock on the door. She turned about the room, inspecting it for the first time before plopping on the bed.The bed wasn’t anything fancy but it was big enough for the both of them. She decided to not to think about that much as she slipped off her cream colored flats that she had worn for traveling purposes. Her clothes were simple as well, favoring a light dress that her mother had made her rather than anything too extravagant. She preferred it this way.

Upon laying back on the pillows, she was taken aback by how soft the feathers were. It was like a cloud. She was tempted to close her eyes right there, but she persisted and opened the book and read for a moments before sleep called for her.

-x-

 

Sherlock often was awake and working all hours of the night. This was something he didn’t think he would change regardless of the woman now in his house. It didn’t change when Doctor Watson regularly stayed here, and it didn’t have to now that he was involved with someone of the opposite sex.

He did however notice the low dimness of the room more on this day. He hadn’t paid any mind to the lamp that had been lit near his desk, offering him light when the night grew darker. He let out a deep sigh as he placed down the card in which he had been writing several annotations in hopes that he could decipher its ominous words.

He hadn’t gotten very far. At some point he slipped into his mind palace to try to work out the other cases he had left behind while he was on his honeymoon. If he could free his mind of something, perhaps it would help him with the riddle. He hoped it would, rather.

Upon rising from his desk he reached for the lamp with the intention of going to bed only for him to realize that his wife was nowhere in the vicinity of his eyes. He looked at his bedroom door.

He vaguely remembered Mrs. Hudson saying something but he hadn’t focused on it at the time. He moved towards the door all the same. If his hunch was correct, Molly had taken to the room to rest.

With these facts in mind, he assumed it would go how most nights went when Molly retired before he did. However, he didn’t really factor in the emotions part of his brain. It went a little gray upon seeing Molly uncovered with one of his books placed on her bosom, sleeping soundly on the right side of the bed, with one of her shoes sitting right in front of the bed.

He walked towards her and carefully took the book from her hand as he placed the lamp on the table that sat across from it. He was stunted by the particular piece of literature she selected for her own amusement. He had never met anyone who preferred reading about the dead when people were still breathing. Added to this conundrum, a woman. How peculiar.

He placed it next to the lamp, before undressing.


	2. pt. 2

Molly was alone when she went to bed, therefore it didn’t entirely surprise her to find herself alone when she rose the following morning. She was used to Sherlock not being there on most days. He woke before she did despite going to bed long after she herself tucked away for the night.

She found him at the dining table which is set for two. She noticed Doctor Watson is sitting in one of the chairs by the fireplace reading the paper. She doesn’t know if she should acknowledge him; instead she makes her way over to sit with Sherlock who has food in front of him, although he hasn’t appeared to have eaten a single morsel. Like his companion, he has a copy of the morning edition in front of him, looking very enthralled by what he’s reading.

“Good morning,” She greets; quietly as Mrs. Hudson comes from the kitchen with a plate for her. It’s still warm which makes Molly hope that she hadn’t gone through too much trouble while waiting for her. She had been exhausted, much more so than she thought.

Mrs. Hudson smiles at her kindly before turning to her husband to berate him about not eating. “You need sustenance, dear boy.”

Without offering her a word in reply, he grabs a piece of bread and begins chewing on it. Molly snorted, causing Sherlock to lift his head and shoot her a scathing look. She ignored this as she reached for her glass of water.

Sherlock returns to his periodical briefly before shifting and addressing Molly. This wasn’t their first time eating breakfast together. It was the first time they had two people around watching them - trying to be discreet but failing - waiting for something to happen. Molly didn’t want them to hold their breath on it. She certainly had given herself and Sherlock a wide berth when it came social niceties.

“Sleep well?” He cleared his throat.

Molly stayed focused on chewing her food before formulating a response. “Yes,” She mumbled. She didn’t know what else to say. This was rather awkward to say the least.

“Great.” He lifted his paper and slid over a piece of parchment in front of her. It was folded down.

She could feel eyes on her but she carefully chose not to react, instead picking up the page and placing it on her opposite side to read later privately. She didn’t know if this was what Sherlock wanted, a scene, as they had spent most of their time one on one. She had liked to think that he wasn’t looking to be cruel but he was giving her a different portrait entirely at the current moment.

She turned back to her breakfast and continued eating as if nothing was happening.

“You aren’t going to read it?” Sherlock asked. He sounded confused and when she brought her eyes to look at him but there was annoyance there, too.

“Not at the moment,” Was all the answer she gave him and the other two in the room.

Sherlock hands posed under his chin as if she was now becoming a puzzle for him. Over a simple piece of a paper, Molly thought it peculiar.

As it were she rose, plate not finished, and took the piece of parchment with her as she left him to get ready for the day. If she was a spiteful woman she would have left the note with him but she wasn’t sure what he wanted. It was troubling her.

As she began her morning routine, a knock sounded at the door before Mrs. Hudson peeked her head in. “Do you require help, dear?”

“No, thank you. This gives me peace.” She gestured to the dresses she found in the wardrobe next to a few varying outfits that belonged to her husband. The landlady had gone through the trouble of sorting through Molly’s clothes - the ones she came with and the few she had found in the boxes of gifts. She was nearly taking over the small wardrobe now. She decided she wanted to see if it would be alright if she retrieved her much larger armoire from home. It wasn’t even half full but now it would be thanks to the people who had doted on her since the wedding.

Whilst they were bound by marriage, Molly felt strange seeing so much of herself inside his area. It would get in the way.

After Mrs. Hudson left her, Molly quickly gathered herself into a soft violet dress that had several skirts underneath. It was one of the more demure choices. Molly wasn’t a fan of overly fancy clothing, of which she now had an abundance of. It constricted her movements and made her feel as if she was trying to be something she wasn’t. She planned to sift through the choices at a later time to assess which ones would be of use and which she could do without. She appreciated the gesture of course, and truthfully a part of her had known that this came with this new territory of wedding someone of a higher caliber of herself. However, it was still daunting.

Truth be told, she was still trying to figure out who she was. Molly knew who she wanted to become but could aspects of that change due to her change in atmosphere? From shadowing her father she had been rather subdued and often called meek. Would she have to shift out of that because it was expected of her? She knew that she was probably the opposite of the type of woman that a male of the high class -  particularly a Holmes - was thought to choose in the form of a partner.

It didn’t bother her as of yet. Sherlock had been rather cut and dry about the whole affair and in that same vein, it had brought her an odd sense of comfort.

She reached for the page that he had slipped her. She sat there with it on her lap, deciding if she should read it now or wait. He had seemed anxious when he had given it to her, as if he didn’t know how she would react. That, in turn, twisted her stomach into knots.

She settled on doing her hair first. She was going to pull it back into a hairstyle that she hadn’t worn in years. A set of braids that made it look like she had a crown on the top of her head. Her mother used to help her do that for special occasions. They were going to be visiting their families today. She was rather excited about reuniting with her parents. She wanted to tell them about the honeymoon as well as give them the little trinkets she had found for them before her return.

Sherlock had been patient as she picked them out. She didn’t ask if he wanted to do something similar. It didn’t seem as though this was something he did regularly. He preferred to share words with them on the off-chance that he went to visit. Or at least that was the impression she got from him. He wasn’t a gift giver. He was, however, severely opinionated.

As she sat once again after fiddling with her hair, she reached for the parchment again and took a peek. She bit her lip reading over the words.

The door opened as she reached the end of it. Her husband stood before her, mouth agape as he was clearly coming in to say something to her but came to a full stop when he noticed what she had been doing. He gathered himself and asked if she was ready to depart. “Thought we’d get my family out of the way, first. They can be smothering.”

Molly only gave him a nod in response. She tucked the page in her ivory reticule and stood. She passed by him and began to walk towards the door leading to the stairs. Sherlock’s footsteps weren’t behind her.

He had stopped moving the second he realized that perhaps he had made an error giving that to her now. Perhaps he should have waited until later tonight when they could be alone and speak about it. He shut the bedroom door and followed his betrothed’s trail. He ignored his best friend who looked rather smug about the events. _It wasn’t the time for teasing_ , _Watson,_ he thought.

Upon reaching the carriage he found Molly sitting across from him, giving him a rather calm expression as if she wasn’t bothered anymore. He didn’t believe that to be true but he would deal with that another time. They had other matters to attend to. Such as the fact that she could possibly be in the company of his sister. Molly had previously engaged with Mycroft, not that they had hit it off. If he remembered correctly his brother had been his usual direct self and Molly had continued to be polite even if she understood his contempt over who was coming into the family. Feelings were something of an abstract concept when it came to the Holmes family.

Eurus was an enigma among them. She often said things that embarrassed their parents. She didn’t seem to care how others valued her; she was a moth among butterflies. With that analogy in mind, he supposed he could say the same about Molly. Except she did care how people saw her. Throwing her into his higher society family would give her the push to understand that a thicker skin was needed in order to thrive. He decided that he did want her to thrive.

He hadn’t thought about it until now but he didn’t want her to change who she was. He knew that he didn’t mind her; he would even go so far as to say that he found her fascinating because of her difference to everyone he had grown up around. She carried herself in a way that made it clear that she wasn’t comfortable around the silk and the jewels, and the snotty attitude that came with a majority of the higher class.

Whilst his family welcomed the idea that perhaps they would, in fact, get an heir because of the arrangement, he didn’t believe they were quite aware of how that would change after the wedding. Several acquaintances came out of the woodwork to try to negate the Hoopers. This was something that Sherlock and his family had kept to the ground. Molly Hooper didn’t just come out of nowhere, they were connected to her father. He was a great man and shouldn’t be treated differently. Classes were irrelevant between the parents of the now-married duo of Hooper and Holmes.

Besides, Doctor Maxwell had never once asked a favor to the family in all the years that they had known each other. Until that day…

Sherlock’s eyes followed Molly’s hand in the carriage as she fidgeted with her reticule. Nerves were an abundance now more than ever. He let out a sigh to get her attention. She looked at him in surprise. “Something wrong?”

He gave his head a shake. “You’ve met my family before.”

Molly straightened up slightly. That wasn’t why she was nervous - something that he could always tell. “I’m not...” She paused before entwining her hands in her lap to still her hands; the habit agitated her. “That’s not what I’m thinking about.”

Silence filled the carriage once more. Sherlock frowned.

“What is it then, **dear**?” He tried.

A sudden noise filled the space between the two of them. She was laughing at him. “Sorry,” She tried as she settled down. She was just surprised to hear a word like that coming out of his mouth. Especially directed at her. She didn’t expect it so soon if ever, which made it all the more amusing for her to have heard it herself.

“Now that that is out of the way.” He cleared his throat, looking slightly rosy in his face as he attempted to get the conversation rolling again. “You were concerned about something?”

Before Molly could even begin to think if she wanted to talk about the page that was sitting within her bag, the vehicle came to a sudden stop.

Sherlock clamored over to look out the window. They weren’t at his family’s estate as of yet. Why had they stopped? His eyes widened considerably as he noticed the large line of vehicles all headed in the same direction.

Normally he would just pass this over as a coincidence but something was telling him that this was his mother’s doing.

He settled himself in his seat once more and placed his hands underneath his chin. He allowed himself a few moments to give his mother the benefit of the doubt. Surely she wouldn’t have a gathering the day she knew that he was coming to visit with his wife.

“Sherlock.” Molly’s voice broke his thought process.

They had gotten closer to the winding drive that would take them up to the courtyard.

“Of course my family had to be this one,” He said quietly.

“Do you want to take a detour?” Molly asked, as she peered between the view outside and her husband who was increasingly frustrated now. She had to admit she didn’t want to be among the throngs of people who were waiting out there, but what could they do realistically as they inched closer to the chaotic atmosphere?

It was strange, he thought. He felt oddly determined to see it through out of something close to spite. He knew his parents, this was a ploy to get him involved in the peerage. They hadn’t ever approved of his choice to live away in the city where bad things happened. Some of it because of his building a reputation as the only consulting detective.

He rather hated to break it to them but he wouldn’t be changing his career or lifestyle in the nearest future. Marriage was many things but he, like Molly (so he believed), didn’t see it as a shackle. An opportunity, perhaps.

“No. It’s better to head right into it. I’d rather not have to endure a lecture about why we weren’t there to enjoy a gathering that they had thrown together for a newly wedded couple.”

She was radiating sympathy. “We won’t have to stay long?” She asked.

“A few hours at the most.” He knew his way around the estate; there were ways of disappearing into it and leaving with minimal headaches involved.

She smiled as if to say that she trusted him.

He hoped he was right.

 

-x-

As their vehicle comes to a halt, Sherlock steels himself for the onslaught of people, fully expecting Molly to do the same. Instead, she has her skirts in hand and hops down the steps without his aid. His brows furrow intensely as he joins her into the large throngs of people still piling on the front lawn, not having moved on to the area where the gathering is being held. Everyone is chatting; he could hear pieces of things but nothing quite caught his attention as much as how much easier it is for his wife to slip between the bodies, and continue to make her way to the door that is being held open by the family butler, Marcus.

A black man, a few years his junior, whose family had been as entwined as the Hoopers to the Holmes’.

When Sherlock managed to make his way towards him, he drew in a deep breath, giving him a nod. “Nice to see you again, Scottie.” Marcus joked, knowing Sherlock would just ignore him.

Sherlock does deign him with a reply however, a barely there turn of his mouth. “Bell, I hope my mother was bearable in my absence.”

Marcus straightened his posture at the mention of the matriarch. “Of course. You mustn't keep her waiting.” He side-stepped out of the way as Sherlock passed him. Sherlock tried to hide his smirk at watching the fellow reverted back to his upright position due to the fear that is instilled in anyone who has spent any amount of time around his mother. Sherlock himself still knew how to toe the lines of what was necessary to survive an encounter with her.

Truthfully, his mother wasn’t a menace. She was rather kindhearted with a strong mind for academics and anything that involved upbringing youth to be the best that they could be. He might have done the opposite for her in that regard but he still appreciated her methods. He did find himself wanting to sit in a room with his father more often than her for the peace of mind.

As he slipped into the front hall, he became aware of the fact that keeping track of Molly was going to be harder than earlier anticipated. His family had a large house therefore more individuals were able to consume the space it provided. This only made his reservations about physical contact implode, but he was aware that he would endure it for two reasons; the first was the duty he had to his wife who he was still becoming acquainted with in the grand scheme of things, and secondly he would be able to breathe better once he got somewhere less congested.

He had a hunch that’s where he would find her and possibly some of his family members as well. It was not unlike his father specifically to cling to those areas. Siger Holmes was a quiet man who could only handle so much activity. The gathering was something he was a part of but wasn’t really engaged in. He was there to support his family, per his custom.

Sherlock carefully wove through the others into the drawing room where there were fewer people but a quick glance of the environment told him that he would have to try somewhere else. He drew in a deep breath. Molly was rather light on her feet - a fact that he had forgotten to keep in mind upon telling her that they would only have to be here a few hours at most. If he couldn’t stay in contact with her now, he would be hard-pressed later.

He stepped out into the stifling crowd once more.

 

Molly had found herself in a rather sudden discussion with a group of ladies a few feet before arriving at the doors that would have taken her outside into some fresh air. Much like Sherlock, she hadn’t really anticipated how many people would be here. There had been several carriages along the way to the door. However, this was challenging her.

She couldn’t be sure where she should be really but she hadn’t wanted to stop moving. Everyone had their eyes on her. It made her want to find a closet and hide. An activity that shouldn’t be too hard, however she had become something of a person of interest with people. It was something that had been obvious previously, and she had done her absolute best to toe the lines of that.

A woman with wild brown hair with notes of blonde woven within the end tails of its tresses had stepped in front of her suddenly. Molly had been stunned by her beauty but that wasn’t what had stopped her. She was dressed rather similar to a man. No skirt in sight. She looked out of place but no one around looked confused by her, the newest Holmes was. She felt very off-put by her and wanted to get out of this space as quickly as she could.

“You’re pretty fast, Miss Hooper.” Her voice had a lilt to it that made Molly think of bells. It was light and as if the woman was having the time of her life. Her eyes were like little knives holding her in place.

“Holmes,” She stated quietly. She opened her mouth to explain that she needed to find someone - like her in-laws perhaps - when the woman moved a little closer to her.

“Right. It’s interesting that you don’t shy away from the name. They’re peculiar people, I suppose I shouldn’t be that surprised that he chose someone, not like the family.”

Molly smiled a little at the jab. It didn’t quite feel like an insult coming from this woman. She couldn’t put her finger on it but it felt like she was intrigued by the circumstance or even possibly Molly herself. If she were simply curious, what was the reason behind it? Molly by definition wasn’t very outgoing or noticeable; this was a fact that she had discovered when she was coming of age. It was what took her so long to find someone to marry. Wallflower syndrome if there was such a thing. She wasn’t the first pick, she never was. Yet her husband had chosen her.

“Are you…” Molly started to ask if she was friendly with Sherlock when he suddenly appeared at her side. He looked annoyed. He glanced at her first before addressing the woman.

“Sister dear, it’s nice for you to show up after the wedding.”

Her grin grew at the sight of Sherlock.

Molly was trying to wrap her head around the sister part. She knew that he had one but hadn’t seen pictures of her, or seen her around before. The way she appeared made sense. She had just returned home from a trip, much like her brother. Something was telling her that she shouldn’t ask.

“Sorry, Sherlock. Got sent away again. Funny how that always happens when big events take place.”

Sherlock let out a deep sigh, then turned back to Molly. “Your parents are here.”

This was her way out of this situation. She was glad but she was also confused. “They’re here?” She asked.

“Of course. It would be rude for mother not the invite them when their daughter is wedded to their most troubled child.”

“Eurus,” Sherlock warned. “Stop talking.”

Molly ignored the possible squabble as she turned fully to her husband. “Where?”

“I’ll take you to them. I only saw them in passing while trying to find you, **_again_ **.”

Molly colored at the reminder that she had set out on her own without him. It was somehow more embarrassing for him to point it out. She was free to do what she liked to a certain extent but for this day to go swimmingly, she was sure that she was going to need to stay close to him, if the feeling she had gotten from his sister was anything to go by.

She nodded and took his hand. It was a loose grasp for all of a moment before they had to reenter the crowded hallway. He had squeezed her hand into his as he took the reigns of taking her to her family.

She didn't miss the eyes that had continued to follow them from Point A to Point B. She was fully aware it wasn't her they were looking at. It was Sherlock and his hand that was connected to hers. It was a sign of willingness to be with someone of the opposite sex, a sign that hadn't been present to the public if ever. Molly understood the surprise; she knew that it wasn't what they thought it was. They weren't in love, they were just bound together in a contract.

If anyone knew anything about the true nature of their relationship, she was sure the pity would grow worse, as would the questions.

 

Much like Molly, her parents didn't look like they belonged but Sherlock had noticed the first time he has passed by them that they hadn't seemed to care. Doctor Hooper had always had a calmness about him that had seemed to increase the deeper his illness grew.

Sherlock had one second to tell them that he would be back with Molly shortly. He couldn't tell them that he had lost her in the crowd. That could have very well lead to panic that he didn't need at the moment. With a forced grin, he had left with the reassurance that he knew where to find her, even though that was a lie.

He should have of course assumed his sister, who he had hoped would stick to chatting with Mycroft's friends in order to bother their eldest brother, would have found Molly like a wildfire. Strange attracted interesting in her case.

He noticed Molly relaxed when he rescued her from it all and that sat well with him. If he could do more than that then he supposed it would be worth it for him. It hadn't surprised him as much to find her not quite afraid of his sister but more confused. Confusion was in surplus with most whenever Eurus was around. He would have to talk to her more privately about it. He felt like a family meeting, as much as he loathed them, was in the future as well.

Upon reuniting with the Hoopers once more, Sherlock found himself at ease. He took to sitting next to the patriarch of the family as Molly withdrew her hand and rushed towards hugging her father, who only coughed a little as he laughed.

This was familiar ground and he wasn't embarrassed to admit that he had always found their relationship to be comforting. He had been around the types who took jabs at each other for too long. It was nice to be in the company of a family who genuinely had good comments to share about one another.

Molly brought him out of his daze at her comment about forgetting their gifts from the honeymoon back home.

“Not to worry. We can get them in a few days when things have settled,” Her mother commented softly. She looked slightly distracted but Molly was glowing in their company.

“Sherlock,” Maxwell Hooper called him. Sherlock shifted his gaze to the older man. He looked tired, although the look in his eye told him that there was something on his mind. Something private. That only the two men could discuss.

“Yes, sir?”

“Would you walk with me for a little while?” Before Sherlock could give him an answer, he was already reaching for his walking stick and pushing himself into a standing position.

“Of course.” He walked to his opposite side for support as they made their way to the other end of the yard.

“What's that about?” Molly asked her mother, worry scrunching her brow.

“No idea.” Her mother paused, before placing her hand over her daughter’s. “How are you doing, dear?”

Molly turned her attention to her mother and not the retreating figures of Sherlock and her father. It was hard, but it was a better distraction from other things that swam in and out of her head.

She smiled softly. “I'm doing well.” She herself wasn't completely convinced of that word choice. The knitted brow from her mother gave the impression that perhaps she didn't either.

“This is probably invasive Mother, but do you ever disagree with Father about things?”

Her mother took a moment to ponder it before nodding. “Marriage isn't ever simple, especially in cases like yours where there wasn't mutual interest. I know you liked him in some regard but that doesn't always translate on a man's end. You have to compromise where you can, and wade through the rest even if he frustrates you.”

“I'm not frustrated, I'm confused.” Molly was inclined to show her mother the page that was in her bag. But, something in her told her that she would have to deal with this on her own. Marriage was between a man and a woman; bringing others into it would only make it more complicated. She could do with less complexity.

She would compromise. It was the only card she had to play at the current space in time.

“It will work out Molly.” Her mother smiled encouragingly at her. Molly let out a sigh as she looked out into the sea of people. She hoped her mother was right.

 

 

-x-

 

Sherlock had forgotten that Doctor Hooper made house calls on occasion before the illness took hold. It was the only reason the doctor knew how to find one of the quietest spots in the several acres of land that was behind the Holmes estate. The small alcove by the water was a place Sherlock often frequented when he wanted to get away from his parents and have some time with the outside world. It was rare that someone actually found him there. He could count on one hand the people who had known of this spot.

Before Doctor Hooper’s illness interfered, he would find Sherlock there nearly every time he had gotten a call from his parents wondering if he could check him over to make sure he was sound in body and of the mind. Of those times, only once was he actually physically sick. Typically Sherlock had an attitude about him that agitated his parents - particularly his mother - it had always amused Maxwell.

Sherlock had figured it was because he saw something in the young man that reminded him of himself, perhaps a younger version, a second scientific mind. It was also the same thought that made it obvious to him at least why he had asked him for the favor to take Molly’s hand in marriage. The answer was easy for him to decide on. His parents were nagging him about finding someone and Maxwell wanted someone he trusted to be able to look after his daughter. He hadn’t said it in so many words but Sherlock understood before the question was ever asked.

Molly still didn’t know the specifics of it all. Nor would she any time soon.

It was better that she was kept in the dark about some things.

Maxwell drew in a deep breath to turn Sherlock’s thoughts back to him. “How’s she doing? How are you doing?”

Sherlock frowned, sighing as he slid down into a slight crouch. He shouldn’t get his coat dirty considering they wouldn’t be able to hide here forever. Someone would come for him.

“We’re adjusting.”

Maxwell smiled, “Elaborate Sherlock.”

“I may have made an error that I thought would help me -- _us_ find our footing now that we’re back in London. Life will be different here.”

“How was it different before?” Doctor Hooper nudged him lightly.

“I didn’t have to plan that much. We had limited options of what we could do. We spent much of the time outside exploring and little time inside unless the weather disagreed for a day or two. It was simpler.”

“Hm,” the older man hummed. “What did you do that’s disagreeable?”

Sherlock didn’t want to tell him. The more he was left with his thoughts since Molly’s reaction following her reading the list, it was a harsh action on his part. Marriage from all points of view was something that should be shared, not dictated by one or more people inside and outside of the union. This was his mess. He shouldn’t involve others.

He didn’t say anything for a few moments.

As he opened his mouth to mention that it was something he would have to deal with on his own, Maxwell interrupted him. “She’s not entirely fragile, I’ll have you know. It’s very likely by morning there will be a solution to the problem waiting for you.”

That sounded awfully cryptic to the detective but he had no choice but to nod, and accept the words as gospel. Doctor Hooper was Molly’s father after all, and he had always trusted him.

There was the added bonus that his dear sister had found them now. They wouldn’t be able to discuss any other matters that Maxwell might have wanted to discuss. Another time then.

“Dearest brother,” She started and Sherlock knew what followed couldn’t have increased his disposition.

 

 

-x-

Molly had always enjoyed her time with her mother-in-law. She could understand why some thought she was a little over the top but that was only because she was excited by her children. This seemed to stem over to her newly recruited daughter as well. She had whisked her away from her mother, who had only laughed and shooed her away saying that they would catch up later. Her own mother had known what was happening, not having enough time to warn her about the incoming storm of people.

There was also the matter of the towering cake that she had joined Sherlock beside. His features gave her all the indication she needed to know that he was not thrilled by this turn of events either. She gave him a weak smile as the matriarch of the Holmes family greeted the large crowd of people. “Now that we have the lovely couple here, how about some cake?”

Molly fielded her gaze back over the cake that was closest to her. It was four tiers of white icing, minimal design accompanied the soft layers of sweetness. It wasn’t as extravagant as it could have been. She was for one thankful for it.

Sherlock inched closer to her at a slow pace. “Well, this didn’t take half as long as I thought,” He mumbled into her ear as he picked up the knife and positioned one of her hands over the hilt so that they could make the first section of the cut.

There was a shout from the crowd shouting about a kiss. She felt Sherlock sigh, more than she heard him. He set the sharp blade to the side and she turned towards him trying to gauge his desire to just get it over with or find a way around such a display. They had already made it a point of being here at all. This was testing the limits of what they were willing to do; in front of a crowd no less.

As if sensing the battle between the two of them, his mother once again stepped in. “The quicker it’s done, the sooner you can leave.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes at his mother’s jib at his lack of presence at home, or his willingness to be there at all. Molly could tell that wasn’t his issue here. She had watched him with crowds before. He didn’t hate the attention, he hated the people; he found them boring and oftentimes as if they were imbeciles. The fact of the matter was that this wasn’t about him. This involved another; it involved her - Molly. Someone he wasn’t sure wanted to be around him at the moment, let alone wanted to pretend that they were affectionate at all.

As though giving her a choice in the matter, Sherlock leaned down towards Molly. It was close enough for her to peck him on the cheek, or decide to go all in for the full effect.

Molly in her nervousness went towards his mouth, only missing a fraction of the way from his mouth. This caused a roarous amount of laughter from the crowd.

As she tried to step away, she felt Sherlock’s hands slide up to her face and keep her in place. He barely took a moment to look at her before changing that simple peck into something akin to a normal kiss. It would have been euphoric without the lingering eyes staring at them from Molly’s point of view. But, she was hardly processing much beyond the fact that Sherlock had taken this a step further and it had left her befuddled even more so than she already was.

It lasted about a few seconds before he pulled back and gave her a soft smile. It was his practiced smile, she knew the difference.

It reminded her of an event that had taken place on their honeymoon. It sedated her mind as they were once again split apart by an older gentleman catching her husband’s attention and calling for him to join him. It was urgent by the look on his face. Add the fact that Sherlock had also left without a word.

Molly turned to her mother-in-law who looked like she would like to throw something at the man. To help alleviate an additional scene she struck up a conversation. “Who is that man?”

“An inspector from the yard. He always comes with something for him, ever since Sherlock was a teenager.” From her tone, it was clear to Molly that they didn’t agree with the idea of someone like Sherlock mudding his hands for the police. Molly was on the other side of the fence; she thought it was rather intriguing that he was asked at all.

Molly stayed longer as penance for her husband’s sudden departure. She didn’t want to disappear as easy as he had, plus she had no reason to go as of yet. Her parents were here - both sets now as it were.

It was late when she arrived back home, and there was still no sign of Sherlock.

She knew that she wouldn’t see him until the morning. Whatever business he had with the Yard was pressing, at the least it was something they could talk about over breakfast. If he was willing to divulge with her, that was.

The page in her reticule felt warm on her side. She’d deal with it after she undressed and had a hot bath. Her bones ached from being on the move for so long. She hadn’t had a moment after Sherlock went away to have a sit. She spent most of that time engaging with those who had wanted to meet her - all those curious about her, those who wanted her to know how lucky she was, those who didn’t understand why it was her. She was a wallflower to most, she was brave to others. To herself she was just present. She couldn’t be what they wanted, she could only try her best.

Molly felt refreshed after the bath. She made sure to light a candle before making her way towards Sherlock’s desk with the page in hand. She had only read it a few times since he had passed it to her. She had already decided what must be done.

She could compromise.

 

Sherlock slipped inside in the early hours of the morning. It had been an extensive night with the Inspector. A child had gone missing, a mother slain and they hadn’t managed to track down the culprit as of yet. As much as he hadn’t planned on a mystery surfacing the second he had returned home, he was grateful for the excuse to think of a job, and not the matters of domesticity.

He didn’t ever think he’d truly have to do this. The matter of a wife was something that had seemed quite far off for him despite his family’s need to see him settled. A wife, an heir, a settled life in that order. He was accustomed to the first, the rest would have to wait. He needed to figure out how to deal with her - not Molly specifically - just someone he was supposed to spend time with and take care of in a more extensive fashion.

He had friends but he didn’t need to walk on eggshells around them. He knew what they wanted from him. What did Molly want? From him, out of life? What could he help with?

These were the thoughts that plagued him on his journey home.

Upon entering the flat, he noticed a singular light source coming from his desk. He frowned as he walked towards it, taking a seat in his chair. The low light of the candle wick was at its end. He reached for his oil lamp and took a light to it before blowing out the remnants of the candle.

The note that he had passed over to Molly was sitting in plain view with ink blotches covering it. She had taken to making comments of her own throughout the half page of writing. Her penmanship was cleaner than his own as he took to reading what was left of the list he had transcribed.

First, she had scratched out the title he hadn’t really put too much thought into. He winced at the several strokes of the pen that had made most of it unreadable.

 

 

_AN AGREEMENT BETWEEN SPOUSES_

****To promptly be on time for dinner we will partake of every night, no matter the circumstances**** _( WITHIN REASON - if one of us is away we must find a way to get word to the other that the other may be tardy or unavailable to make the engagement )_

**2\. Leave the husband alone when he’s working** _(I won’t hide away while you’re working with experiments, or with your clients. I shadowed my father remember?_ **)**

 

She had added two very specific additions that he had zoned in on.

 

 

3.  _ _This one is a given, DEAR, however, talking to me instead of making silly ‘agreements’ for me to only grow agitated by might be a wonderful start.__

__4._ _ _Visit your family (Your parents miss you)_

 

 

There were more little comments but the detective was aware that most of them could have been prevented if he started with no 3. It should have been moved up to no 1 but this was something he needed to work on.

He folded the note and stowed it in the topmost drawer that had the least amount of odds and ends filling it over.

 

Then, he removed his coat before entering the bedroom. He chose to join her for a minimal amount of time for rest. It was something small but necessary. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. It has been awhile. 
> 
> The short explanation would be life is messy.
> 
> The long answer that is still somehow basically the short answer I had quite the year after the first chapter went up. Lost both my great grandparents on my dad's side, fell into depression that I have been weaving in and out as is, and more recently quit the job I've had for years because of mental health and just not getting anywhere. So uh, I've been through a lot. But the good news is I've started therapy since then and I am in a better place even if I'm still on the job hunting trail. If you like this enough to support me I have links on my [tumblr](http://sincerelydayyy.tumblr.com) ~~(I won't post those here since I know that's bad etiquette - I do have a Ko-fi and now I'll shush before the overlords come for me)~~. 
> 
> OH, and you finally got this chapter. I've actually been slowly working on it since the last chapter was posted. It's only over the last two weeks I was actually able to go at it and finish it and then send it to my beta for this fic. Sally is seriously amazing, and I'm sure it wouldn't have looked this good without her help. 
> 
> Also the lovely [Channy](http://muffin-n-waffle.tumblr.com/) for helping me with the cake scene because researching is something very confusing.
> 
> I would love to hear your thoughts on this one. I felt a little unsure about some of it but happy to have finally gotten back to it. 
> 
> By the way, your insanity of a response to the first chapter literally floored me and I still look at your lovely comments when I need some inspiration. I've been lacking that for some time also. But, seriously THANK YOU all for that and also WAITING on this one. I can't guarantee that the wait times will be any better but I'm going to do my best. Can't wait to hear what you think. 
> 
> Until next time <3 Day


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